Teulu
by Nightchaser
Summary: Modern!au. Slash. When Arthur Pendragon discovers that he is the heir to the throne, he doesn't know that Wales contains not only a crazy family but a problematic archeologist by the name of Merlin Emrys.
1. Chapter 1

Teulun

Chapter One.

Princess Johanna Kaikonnen slid gracefully from the comfortable leather interior of the Bentley and smiled politely at the chaffeur who was holding open the car door. Letting her grey eyes wonder up the sweeping drive she finally let them rest on the manor of Cleveland Court which stood among acres of beautiful gardens. It still amazed her that castles and manors in Britain were far small than their counterparts in Scandanavia, and it made her miss her homeland even more. There were only two things that could force her hand back into England: a diplomatic mission organized by her Father or Grandfather, or a request by her ledi the great Lady Lowri Lloyd-Morgan. The latter was what had brought her here, a plea from the step-mother of the Welsh king to bring the only son of Lord Uther Pendragon to Caerdydd before Parliment got to him. And so she had travelled all this way to meet a man she had never met and convince him that his destiny lay somewhere far away from the path choosen for him.

Letting out a deep sigh, she climbed the steps to the enormous woodern front doors but before she could ring the ancient bell the doors slowly creaked open to reveal a man. He was maybe three years her junior and attractive if you liked that sort of thing, not that Johann even pretended to know what made a man appealing. He was about average height with floppy blonde hair and blue eyes; broad shoulders which tapered down to slender hips, and expensive clothes which did nothing to hide his muscular physique.

"You must be Princess Johanna," he said, giving a small respectful bow. "I'm Arthur Pendragon, I heard you were coming to see me."

Johanna had forgotten how quickly word travelled amongst the higher nobility, especially within the British court, and in the six hours it had taken to travel from Caerdydd to North Somerset word had obviously got to the Pendragons.

"Thats correct," she answered.

He was exactly the same as every other nobility brat she had ever come across, arrogant and haughty. It horrified her that this was the one which Lowri had chosen, and yes she understood that Parliment didn't approve of Aeron but this long lost grand-nephew of the late great Saith Vaughn couldn't be any better.

Following him into the main hall, she was barely able to look at the flamboyant decor before she was swept into the huge drawing room.

"Please sit." He gestured towards a sofa, which she sank into gratefully.

Arthur however didn't join her, instead he paced around the sofa and clutched the back of a high-backed chair. He appeared to be the kind of person who couldn't stay still for more than a couple of minutes, full of a restless energy that made the air around him crackle. Somehow she couldn't see this man holding court or having a meeting with Parliment, he was so different to Kynan that it made her throat close up.

"So I suppose you want to know why I'm here?" she asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forwards. He didn't answer, instead he merely rose one eyebrow in response. "As you probably already know King Kynan Saith Lloyd-Morgan of Wales was shot three times by terroists in Ailen four months ago. This situation has brought forward a concern on who would take the throne should anything happen to him, especially since Parliment has decided that the next in succession is unsatisfactory."

She watched as he stalked around the chair, to perch on the arm.

"And how does this affect me?" he demanded.

"In 1943 Wales was invaded by the Nazis and the entire of the Royal family was killed, except for Saith Vaughn who ruled from 1945-48 and then abdicated in favor of his cousin Tristyn Lloyd II. However it would appear that another member of the Royal family survived, Bevan Vaughn was Saith's cousin and it turned out that he escaped over the border into England where he had a daughter Aisha. She in turn had a daughter by the name of Ygraine." She waited for the knowledge that they were talking about his mother to sink in. "Arthur you are the rightful heir to the Welsh throne."

"What must I do?"

The look on his face was one which she was intimately acquainted with, in fact it was one she witnessed every time she looked in a mirror. There was a war going on inside between what he wanted and the duty he had towards his family and indeed his country. Maybe he hadn't known any life outside of England, maybe he had never even had more than a passing thought for Wales and its people, but now he was prepared to look fate in the face and do what had to be done. Her first impression of him may not have been the best, but she was beginning to feel a grudging respect for him.

"Lady Lowri wishes for you to come to Caerdydd and begin your training," she answered. "Hopefully by the end of the month."

He nodded slowly.

"Training for what exactly?" he asked.

Johanna wasn't really sure how to explain how royality worked, it was something that had merely happened in her life without concious thought or even knowledge. Arthur, even though he had been born into nobility was not privvy to the royal court and all that it entailed.

"When Kynan took the throne he was eighteen, and the only thing that kept him going was the fact that he had been groomed for that position since he was born." She could still remember calling him that night he had been so scared and yet so full of plans, little did any of them know it would all go to hell within eighteen months. "You need to learn enough within the next six months, just in case ..."

She managed to stop herself before spurting out something that she and Lowri didn't even have any proof of, it was merely a feeling and if it did happen to be true Parliment would try and force Kynan to abdicate, which meant they were going to need a suitable heir. Arthur needed to be ready.

"Just in case what?" he demanded, crossing his arms across his chest. "I can't agree to this if something is being kept from me."

"There is nothing being kept from you," she answered, desperately forcing back the desire to get to her feet and start pacing. "There is a concern for the Kings safety, and therefore the continuation of the Welsh royal family."

Blue eyes seemed to bore into her as Arthur tilted his head to the side as if trying to draw her secrets out. After a few moments he merely shrugged his shoulders and turned to face the drawing room window, staring out into the gardens.

"Let Lady Lowri know that I shall be in Caerdydd by the end of the week," he whispered, a slight hunch coming to his shoulders. "After I have discussed this with my father."


	2. Chapter 2

"I need you."

These were three words which Merlin Emrys had never expected to say to a gorgeous man, he had never had the self-confidence to just take whatever he wanted. Plus the man standing in front of him was stunningly gorgeous; six foot five and built, with light brown hair, grey eyes and golden skin. Next to Brett London he felt like nothing more than a plain, scrawny, archeology graduate who had been rambling around Castell Coch for the past five months.

"What's wrong Lil'bit?" Brett asked in his usual deep American baritone, and even though it wasn't exactly the most flattering of nicknames Merlin was to busy drooling over himself to care.

"I need to - um - ..." He waved his hand absently down the hall, trying desperately to find a way to convey that he needed the portrait of King Cadwgan Vaughn 1634-1642 down off the wall so he could take a sample of the canvas. "... - um - picture ... Cadwgan."

Brett rose an eyebrow and grinned gently at him, obviously deciding that the young man in his presence was a half-wit.

"You need my help with Cadwgan?" he asked, reaching out a strong hand to squeeze Merlin's shoulder.

"Yes," answered Merlin, taking two deep breaths to regain his composure. "I-I need to get his portrait off the drawing room wall, its too heavy for me on my own and the footmen are all down in Forest Fawr with the King gathering hawthorn for Calan Mai."

That got him a small chuckle from the other man, who began striding down the hallway towards the drawing room leaving Merlin following in his wake.

"Cadwgan, he's the one with the eyebrows right?" asked Brett, nodding at the huge portrait over the fireplace of the brooding Cadwgan who had indeed the thickest eyebrows Merlin had ever seen.

"Yeah thats him," said Merlin, moving over to where he had already set out his tools on the card table. "Why aren't you in Fawr?"

He watched as Brett lifted the portrait, frame and all, from the wall as if it weighed nothing and placing it gently on the table beside him.

"Its my day off," he answered, wiping the dust from his palms onto his dark blue jeans leaving hand prints on his upper thighs. "I do get days off you know?"

It didn't seem very likely, the King had only been back in Wales for three months and in that time it seemed that his bodyguard had barely left his side. Merlin understood the need for 24/7 protection especially since the man had nearly died when terroists had attacked him in Ailen, but it seemed strange that everything had been scaled back overnight.

"Oh," he whispered. "I just thought that since you and the King are such good friends - um - what I mean to say is that you've got a close working relationship ..."

There had been rumors, as was want to happen in large households, that Brett shared the King's bed on a regular basis. Merlin had personally dismissed them as nothing more than the talk of bored maids, after all Brett did have quite the reputation, not that it didn't stop him from fantasizing about both beautiful men from time to time. At that thought he felt warmth on his neck and cheeks, and he quickly ducked his head to hide his embarrasment.

"It would be against proprietary for me to be seen with the King in a social setting," answered Brett cheerfully, beginning to carefully disconnect the frame on one side of the portrait. "Also its my job to oversee security for our incoming guest."

This surprised Merlin, he hadn't been informed that there was going to be another member in the household anytime soon. Castell Coch was already full to bursting with the King and his entourage in Caerdydd, since his permanent residence was Carreg Cennen in the Bannau Brycheiniog to the north. What with Lady Lowri and the King living in the Keep, a temporary residence had been created in gallery for the King's personal staff. Now with someone else coming into the castle, somebody important enough to warrant security, it was going to be cramped.

"So where will they be staying?" He tried to make it sound nonchalent, but with the colour still staining his pale skin he knew that he didn't quite hit the mark.

Brett let out a soft chuckle and gently squeezed Merlin's shoulder again as he made his way towards the door.

"He'll be staying on the ground floor of the Keep," he answered, leaning against the doorway momentarily to look back. "See you around Lil'bit."


	3. Chapter 3

The King was in residence, the green griffin of his crest was flying above the Castell Coch Keep, and that thought made the usually unflappable Arthur feel just a little nervous. Behind him the engine of the Bentley which had brought him up from Caerdydd airport started its engine, and there was the sound of gravel crunching as it slowly moved back down the sweeping drive. Turning to watch it leave Arthur knew that with it went his last chance of living a 'normal' life, before settling his gaze back on the castle in front of him.

The enormous wooden gates which were the main enterance to Castell Coch were open, and a woman was standing there watching him. She was maybe in her mid-sixties with long silver grey hair which was piled on top of her head artfully, her build was slender and upon it she was wearing finely tailored clothes. It was clear that in her day she was once a great beauty, and even now he could see that she was an extremely attractive lady for her age.

"Good morning," he said, stepping forwards and extending his hand in greeting. "I'm ..."

"Arthur Pendragon," she finished for him, shaking his hand warmly. "My name is Lowri Lloyd-Morgan, and we expected you three hours ago."

So this was the infamous Lowri Lloyd-Morgan, step-mother to the King, one of the most powerful and influential women in Europe. Just from looking at her you couldn't tell that she was anything more than a wealthy, elderly woman who looked just a little frail yet her temper was legendary.

"Yes my plane was delayed from Heathrow due to fog," he answered.

"I am aware of this." She smiled and took his elbow in a firm grasp, leading him through the gates and into a courtyard. "That is why we didn't send out security looking for you."

"Well also because Kynan claimed that if he's going to be heir apparant he's got to be able to find his way around Caerdydd."

Arthur swung around at the sound of the deep voice to find himself face-to-face (well more like face-to-chest) with what appeared to be a professional wrestler in a pair of levi's and a armani shirt. Trying to appear non-chalant about suddenly finding himself in the presence of this intimidating American bohemith, Arthur stuffed his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrow.

"Brett, behave," hissed Lowri, still standing at his elbow and he felt her nails digging into his flesh.

"Sorry." Brett gave a low bow, however his face still held a look of amusement.

"Just what would the King say?" demanded Lowri, her voice still sounding angry.

Brett shrugged and his grin seemed to broaden.

"He's the one that said it," he answered.

Arthur knew that he was probably gaping like a right idiot, but even in the circles he had travelled in one never talked about royalty in this manner. Yet here was the King mother and what must be a servant of some description squabbling over something which their _ruling_ monarch had more than likely meant to be a private conversation.

"My step-son has a slight problem with authority," said Lowri, and Arthur turned back to her in surprise.

"But isn't your step-son the King?" he asked quietly. "Doesn't that make him the authority?"

Brett started laughing at that, deep booming laughs that echoed around the courtyard and made Lowri turn disapproving eyes in his direction.

"I don't think Kynan will ever have authority over Lowri," he chuckled. "He's terrified of her."

"Yes ... well." Lowri had a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "I am his mother."

*

The King of Wales was one of the least known and most private entities there was when it came to European royalty. He did not very often travel from his own lands, and when he did it was generally under the strictest of covers, even this countries press allowed their monarch his privacy. It was something unheard of in most of the world, and indeed something which Arthur knew many other families envied.

However due to all this secrecy not much was known about King Lloyd-Morgan, except that he was twenty-four years of age and had lost his fiance' three years ago in a car accident. The impression which Arthur had garnered about this man was that he was a strange, ugly man currently on deaths door due to the recent assassination attempt. In truth Kynan was so very different from what Arthur had expected; he was a maybe two inches taller than Arthur himself, slender and long legged with black hair, blue eyes and skin so pale it was almost transparent. He looked almost otherworldly standing in a pristine pin-stripe three piece suit by the enormous bay window.

"So you are to be my heir?" His strong Welsh accent rolled from his tongue, and he placed his hands on his hips as he stepped towards where Arthur was standing against the mantle.

"Yeah, that Swedish bird told me that the next in succession wasn't suitable," answered Arthur. "Or something like that."

Kynan had stopped his pacing and instead was leaning against an oak table, an amused look on his face as he took in the blonde Englishman standing in his drawing room. Arthur didn't know what to make of this man, he had incredible wealth and power yet did not have any arrogant airs, this was something which he wasn't used to.

"Finnish."

"What?" demanded Arthur, leaning further into the mantle.

"Johann is the Finnish princess." Kynan seemed close to laughter. "I was engaged to her younger sister for a time last year."

"I didn't know that," said Arthur.

"Not many people do." He ran his fingers through his hair. "So you're to begin training on how to act like a Crown Prince."

He had received a crate of books within twenty-four hours of discovering his legacy, all of them long winded and clearly written by somebody with far to much time on their hands and no imagination. Halfway through the first one he had given up, and having grown up in awe of the English royals had decided that this was probably something he could make up as he went.

"That's what I was told," he answered.

"Good." Kynan nodded slowly, and then held up a Olympic gold medal he fished out of his pocket. "What do you know about practical jokes?"


	4. Chapter 4

There were no spare rooms within Castell Coch for Merlin to take as his own private work place, and so he used the extensive archives in the basement. He had an old trestle table in a small corner, currently covered in boxes and chests which had been brought down from Glanusk estate just that morning.

"What's all this?" The voice is soft and feminine, and Merlin swings around to see the palace biographer Elena walking towards him.

She was one of the few friends he had made here in Caerdydd, and he had found in her a kindred spirit.

"Have you ever heard about John Morgan?" he asked, waving happily at the piles of boxes and parchments on the table and spilling onto the floor. "I had Gauis send all this down from Glanusk."

"Up in the Beacons?" she asked, carefully pushing aside some of the books and perching on the corner of the table. "I thought that was one of the Lloyd estates."

Though Elena's job was mostly writing the biography of Lowri and those surrounding her she had a great interest in history, especially that involving the royals.

"It is." He felt like jumping up and down on the spot, because right here in front of him was the best kept secret this country had to offer. "In 1879 it belonged to Nye Lloyd after his father died of consumption, on its grounds lived his sister Ana and her husband John Morgan. In his early twenties John was an adventurer, a treasure hunter ... an archeologist."

Elena smiled at that, and quite possibly at the way in which he was picking all the loose threads out of his old shirt.

"I can see why you like the man," she said.

"He was injured in Cairo in the summer of 1880 and Ana brought him to Glanusk to recopirate. Whilst here he became a bit of a legend, there were no police in the area and so people came to him with all their problems big or small to solve." He watched as Elena picked up a book and flipped it open. "Those are the private diaries of Ana."

"These are just stories," she whispered. "They're somebodies scribblings about Edward Peacock, a Victorian era version of fanfiction."

Edward Peacock was famous in Welsh literary circles, a character created by authors unknown and much in the style of the English Sherlock Holmes. There was not a school child in the country who didn't learn of his exploits.

"Elena." He snatched the book from her hands and forced her to look at him. "John Morgan was Edward Peacock. Gauis found all of this walled up in an extension of the cellar ... hidden."

"Hidden?" demanded Elena, picking up another book. "Why?"

"I don't know," he answered absently, slowly removing an old moth-eaten cover from what must obviously be a portrait of some kind. "But its my job to find out."

"I thought you're job was to research Caste ..." Her voice trailed off when the portrait was revealed, and the image of the man painted upon the canvas took his breath away.

He had curly dark hair which fell into his eyes was nothing more than a barely controlled mass on his head; he was maybe thirty-five with a handsome enough face, but his was his eyes almost black in colour and seemed to be alive as they stared out of the painting.

"Shit," whispered Merlin, leaning forward for a closer inspection.

"Is that him?" demanded Elena, sliding from the table and moving to stand beside Merlin.

Merlin didn't even get a chance to answer because at that moment the heavy archive doors burst open and there was the sound of swearing from the other side of the room. Swinging around, the dust cover still in his hand, Merlin could just make out the form of a man in the shadows between the shelves. He was maybe a little shorter than Merlin himself, with sandy-blonde hair which meant that he was in no way related to the usually dark-haired royals. The man was clearly strong, his chest and shoulders broad and his waist slender which showed that he worked out.

"Who are you?" demanded Merlin, angry at having his sanctuary invaded in such a manner.

"I'm looking for the kitchens," said the man, not even bothering to answer Merlin's question.

"Well they're not here," answered Merlin, folding his arms across his chest.

At that the other man looked up at him sharply, and then stalked further into the light so that the expression of amused intolerance was clear on his face.

"I know that you complete idiot." His voice was silky in anger. "Do you even know who I am?"

To be honest Merlin didn't care who he was, as a consultant archeologist he worked for the King himself and so nothing this man could possibly say would threaten him.

"I thought that was obvious." He shrugged his slim shoulders in what he hoped was indifference and glanced back at Elena. "You're a prat."

It was at that moment that he noticed that Elena was trying to subtley wave her hands at him to shut up and he knew, _knew_ that he had made a cockup of monumental proportions.

"The kitchens are on the ground floor," whispered Elena, giving a small bow. "Sire."

Shit shit, double shit. He must be a visiting monarch of some other country and Merlin had probably just caused a diplomatic incident with his stupidity and wayward mouth.

"Thank you," said the man, giving Elena a respectful nod.

"No problem!" Merlin called to his retreating back, flinching as the doors slammed behind him.

"Merlin." Elena grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and swung him around to face her. "That was Arthur Pendragon ... he's here to become the Crown Prince."


End file.
